


all i have to do is dream

by Glisseo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 07:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11618676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glisseo/pseuds/Glisseo
Summary: Approaching a Very Important Birthday, Harry dwells on getting older, and has to think about who he'd like there to celebrate with him.





	all i have to do is dream

25th July 2020  
_  
“You’re listening to WWN Radio 7 Live, it’s ten thirty-seven, and if you’re just joining us a very good morning to you. We’re discussing a particularly significant birthday that’s coming up in the next week … Yes, if you didn’t know, Harry Potter is turning forty on Friday. Forty! How about it. And joining us is our celebrity correspondent Naomi Dropper, who has some insight into how Harry will be celebrating his birthday. Naomi, will we be seeing extravagant festivities of the sort we saw from Celestina Warbeck a few years ago?”  
  
“Oh, I would say almost certainly not, no. We’ve seen relatively little of Harry in the last few years, he prefers to keep his private life just that, and I don’t think we’ll be hearing much from him as he reaches this milestone. My sources tell me that family and friends are planning a party, but it will most likely be at home, with few guests outside of their close family and friends. We can expect former members of Dumbledore’s Army to make an appearance – Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, of course Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who are still very close friends, and godparents to –”  
_  
Ginny jabbed her wand at the wireless, cutting the witch’s well-modulated voice off mid-sentence. She glanced at her husband, who was – uncharacteristically – closely scrutinising his reflection in the kitchen mirror.   
  
“Imagine if her ‘sources’ were real, and we actually were planning a  _surprise_ party,” she commented crossly. “That would have blown it right there!”  
  
“Mmm,” said Harry.   
  
“But we do need to sort something – a party would be a good idea, though maybe at the Burrow, not here, it’s such a faff with all the security charms.”  
  
“Mm, yeah.”  
  
“And there’ll always be some reporter who tries to crash it. Maybe we shouldn’t have it on your actual birthday this year?”  
  
“Hmmm … maybe …”  
  
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. 

“What about guests?” she continued brightly. “I was thinking Rita Skeeter, definitely, and your aunt and uncle –”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely …” She saw Harry’s reflection frown. “Hang on, what?”  
He spun round. Ginny glowered at him.   
  
“You weren’t listening to me at all, were you?”  
  
There was little point in lying. “No, but – Gin, look.” He pointed at his head, or more specifically his hair, which he had been staring at for the last ten minutes. “I’ve got grey hair!”  
  
“And?”  
  
“I’m old!”  
  
“According to Rita, you’ve had grey hair for years,” Ginny pointed out.   
  
“I’ve had a  _few_ grey hairs,” said Harry heatedly, “but this – look! It’s going  _completely grey!_ ”  
  
“Oh, rubbish,” said Ginny, beckoning him closer so she could inspect the untidy mop. “OK, you’re more grey than you were, but that’s normal! And it’s definitely not  _all grey._ Not like Percy …”   
  
“Not  _yet_.”  
  
“Look, you’ll know when you’ve gone completely grey, because I’ll have left you for a younger man.”  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows. “That’s the plan, is it?”  
  
“Of course,” said Ginny matter-of-factly. “I’ve already picked, it’s Michael Corner.”  
  
“Michael Corner was the same year as me!”  
  
“Yes, but his birthday’s in August.”  
  
Harry was still laughing as Ginny reached for a notepad and quill. “Can we talk about  _your_  birthday now, please? Let’s just get a guest list, at least … who do you definitely want there?”

* * *

“Tea?”  
  
“If you’re making,” said Harry. He stretched his arms out in front of him as he looked around the warm, pleasantly-scented kitchen. It hadn’t changed much over the years; the photographs pinned to the noticeboard were the only things that were updated. He smiled at a picture of his three children, pulling daft faces and laughing at the camera.   
  
His mother set a mug down in front of him and took a seat across the table with her own. “Dad’s just upstairs,” she said. “He’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thanks. What’s he doing?”  
  
Lily pulled a comical ‘who knows?’ face. “I prefer not to ask. So. What brings you here?”  
  
Harry knew his mother had sensed something was up as soon as he stepped through the door of his childhood home; he could tell by the way she surveyed him with her piercing green eyes. It wasn’t often, for one thing, that he made unscheduled visits home. He loved his parents, but they tended to come to his more often, especially if the children were there.   
  
His reason for visiting, however, sounded rather pathetic as he now tried to explain it.   
  
“It’s … just … being forty, on Friday, and … I noticed my hair …”  
  
“Oh, Harry,” said Lily, amusement tugging at her lips. “Are you upset about going grey?”  
  
“ _No_ ,” said Harry. “Well. A bit. I don’t know. Is that really stupid? It just made me realise that I’m getting old. And the kids are teenagers … nearly adults themselves. It’s all going by so quickly.”  
  
His mother reached out and patted his hand. “That’s life, I’m afraid, darling. When you’re twenty you can’t imagine ever being forty, and then before you know it, there you are. Grey hair and all. Look at me,” she pointed out, gesturing with her other hand to the hair piled untidily on top of her head. It was definitely more silver than red these days, but it rather suited her. “And me and your dad were grandparents at forty-four!”

“I would say that’s more your fault than mine,” said Harry. A thought occurred to him. “Merlin’s pants, I hope  _I’m_ not a granddad at forty-four!”  
  
“Well, have you talked to the children about sex?” asked Lily, raising her eyebrows. 

“Mum!”  
  
“I’m only asking!”  
  
“What’s this about sex?”   
  
James Potter clapped his son on the shoulder as he bounded noisily into the kitchen. His hair had started going grey a long time ago, it occurred to Harry, but he’d never looked particularly old. It was quite distinguished, actually. He felt slightly more cheerful.   
  
“Nothing,” he said, to answer James’ question. “Nothing  _at all_.”  
  
“Shame,” said his father cheerfully. “Why are you here? Is it to deliver our invitations to the party we’ve heard nothing about?”  
  
“If you’ve heard nothing about it, how d’you know there is one?”  
  
“He heard it on the radio yesterday,” Lily told Harry, “and I  _said,_  those ‘sources’ are always rubbish.”  
  
“Oh,” said Harry. “Actually, Ginny is throwing a party, and you are invited, but it’s on Saturday, not Friday. Neville and I decided to have a joint do at the Burrow.”  
  
“Well, we’ll pay for it, then,” said James. “So you can go all out.”  
  
“No, really, Dad, there’s no need –”  
  
“Of course there is. Not every day your son turns forty. Remember my fortieth?” he added to Lily.   
  
“No. Do you?”  
  
James scratched his head. “Er … no, come to think of it. Must have been that mead Sirius brought … Don’t tell me  _he’s_ already had an invite to this party?”  
  
“I sent him an owl earlier.”  
  
“Before your own father. Sickening, really –”  
  
“I came to see you in person!”  
  
“What about The Professor, does he know?”  
  
“I owled him too,” said Harry, rolling his eyes at the nickname. Remus had earned himself a lifetime of tutting and head-shaking from his oldest friends when he’d started teaching at Hogwarts. He didn’t seem to mind, but James and Sirius were already urging his son Ted “not to become boring like your father” at every opportunity.   
  
“And what about –”  
  
Lily fixed her husband with a  _shut it, now_ sort of look. “It’s  _Harry’s_ party, not yours.”  
  
“I’m just making sure!” James protested. “It’s an important birthday, so everyone important needs to be there.”  
  
“Like yourself, obviously.”  
  
“Well, I  _am_ very important.”  
  
Harry laughed. In truth, he couldn’t imagine having a big party to mark his fortieth without his parents, Sirius and Remus there, just as he couldn’t imagine all Ginny’s family being there. After all, a party was never boring when the Marauders and Fred and George were put together.   
  
Lily patted his hand again, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Are you all right about … what we were talking about?”  
  
“What? Oh! Fine,” said James, loudly. “Have secrets from me. Your husband and father. Your  _creator,_ Harry –”  
  
“Yeah, I think so,” said Harry. “I’ve got nothing to complain about, have I?”  
  
She smiled softly. “I’d not say so, no.”  
  
“ _I_  have something to complain about,” said James.   
  
“Shhh, darling.”

* * *

25th July 2020  
  
_“-sixteen-year old James Potter. It will be very important to Harry that these friends from school are there, as he has continued to trust and confide in them for all these years.”_  
  
_“He does celebrate his birthdays, though? I mean, we know that other days of celebration for others, for example Victory Day in May, the anniversary of his final defeat of Tom Riddle – he’s always made it very clear that he doesn’t celebrate that day, given that so many people lost their lives.”_  
  
_“No, and that’s understandable and some might say very noble of him. But he has traditionally celebrated his birthdays, or rather family and friends have made sure he does! And I’m sure this one – the big 40 – will be no exception. Naturally, though, there’ll be some dark clouds over the festivities, namely all those friends and family that are missing – his parents, Lily and James Potter, who were in their early twenties when they were killed by Riddle; his godfather, Sirius Black, who died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange some years later; Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, the parents of his own godson … yes, I’m sure Harry will be thinking of those who can’t be with him on this special day.”_

* * *

Harry’s knees protested slightly as he knelt in front of the wooden cabinet, running his fingers along the leather spines of neatly labelled photograph albums. Ginny liked to keep them organised, and so they were all arranged by date - apart from one. 

He pulled it out and sat down on the sofa to open it, gently blowing dust off the pages.   
  
There they were, his mother and father, and Sirius … and there was Lupin, too, looking tired and pale, but much younger than Harry had ever known him. He stopped on a particular picture, the four of them (where was Wormtail? Harry wondered if he had walked out of the picture, like he’d once seen Percy do, or was simply hiding; or perhaps he’d been holding the camera) laughing in what looked like a Muggle pub. They couldn’t have been more than nineteen.   
  
He’d never been able to stop himself from marking their birthdays in his head each year. They would have turned forty themselves twenty years ago. Forty-three when he’d got married, forty-four when James was born. This year, at the end of January, he’d made a mental note of his Mum’s sixtieth, and imagined, fleetingly, the big party he was sure his Dad would have put on … Perhaps James, Albus and Lily would have had permission to leave school for it. 

And they should all be at  _this_ party. Forty, an age he never thought he’d reach. An age they _did_ never reach. Them, and Fred, and Tonks, and so many others.

“Is that Grandma and Granddad?”

James, Al and Lily had appeared, peering curiously over the back of the sofa. It was Lily who’d asked; she tucked her hair behind her ears as she leaned on Harry’s shoulder to see the picture better.   
  
“Yep,” said Harry. He flipped through the pages. “That’s on their wedding day … and look!”  
  
“Is that  _you?_ ”  
  
“It is.” In the photograph, Harry’s parents exchanged exhausted smiles before glancing down at the tiny baby who waved a small hand from the blankets. 

“They look so  _young_ ,” said James in disbelief. “Younger than Teddy, even!”

“They’d be sixty now,” said Harry. “I was just thinking … imagining what it’d be like if they were here …”  
  
But they weren’t here, he reminded himself. And that was OK; he was happy. He was happier than he ever thought he’d be. What had Dumbledore said?  _It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live._

The children joined him on the sofa, and he passed the album over to Lily, who sat in-between the boys so they could all look, exclaiming occasionally over a picture, or a “terrible haircut”, as James put it. 

“Where’s Mum?” he asked, watching their faces with a strange mixture of sadness and contentment.   
  
“Gone to get your birthday present,” said Al.   
  
“Yeah,” said James. “We weren’t supposed to tell you, but it’s hair dye – ow!”


End file.
